Of the treasured aurora
Not a spoonful entered her eyes
The glass of her windows 
Marked with their elfin fingers in fog 
Now had dragged drops of dried blood 
The wooden walls they had lined with daub
Had heard the sudden ado
Echoed with alarming frequency
They were hiding in narrow streets yesterday
She would call for them and hear another muzzle
In vent to save them this time
She would scamper to the turf
Only to be greeted by another set of uniform
Poised at the banks of gory Jhelum she’d see them
Drowned in water that wouldn’t stop touching her toes



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